


Are Friends Electric?

by sparrow2000



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 10:03:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4783280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrow2000/pseuds/sparrow2000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willow worries about sex</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are Friends Electric?

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings – Mastubation  
> Disclaimer – Joss and Mutant Enemy et al own everything. I own nothing  
> Beta extraordinaire – thismaz  
> Comments are loved, cherished and called George...
> 
> A/N - I wrote this way back in 2007, but just realised I'd never posted it here. I have no idea where my brain was when I wrote this one!

**Are Friends Electric**

It really wasn’t fair. All Buffy seemed to do was put on a short skirt and toss her hair about and she got a whole pile of boys queuing round the block, waiting to do whatever it is boys do when they finally get their hands on the object of their hormone driven lust. Well, maybe ‘a whole pile’ was a bit of an exaggeration, but Angel was a big guy, and Xander was no slouch in the height department. Put them together and they’d make a pretty substantial pile. 

Willow sighed and dropped the copy of Cosmo which Buffy had forced on her. The one that had the quiz which was supposed to give you insight into how your star sign dictated your love life. Oh yes, like she was going to believe something like that. She knew she was an Aries and that her element was fire – which was kind of appropriate – but she’d never felt less like a ram in her entire life, even putting aside the whole gender issue. Sheep – she was definitely a sheep. Trotting after Buffy, wrapped in her fleecy jumpers, hoping that some of the blonde glamour and cuteness would rub off. Maybe then, she’d get a boyfriend. Maybe then, Xander would notice her.

It wasn’t just the boyfriend stuff that bothered her. It was all the stuff that came with the whole boyfriend package. The kissing and the touching, the groping and the sex. Oh god, the sex. She’d read all the books and sat through the completely cringe-worthy talk at school by the female gym teacher, and she’d had the heart to heart with her mother, and that so was a memory she wanted to suppress. But she was a good student. She’d done her research, like a good girl. But the practical – that was another matter all together.

She knew Buffy had kissed Angel. That they’d done some of the other stuff, because, god knows, Buffy had gone into long and graphic detail about what exactly Angel could do with his tongue and what the whole, not having to breath deal, brought to the table. But Willow knew that they hadn’t actually done ‘it’ yet, because there was no way Buffy would have been able to keep that little secret to herself.

It wasn’t just the mechanics of the sex stuff though, that bothered Willow. It was the depth of the experience, the intensity of the emotion, that she worried about. When it happened, she wanted it to be wonderful. She wanted to get an A+. She wanted to get a Gold Star. That was the Rosenberg way. But top marks meant practice. And it was damn difficult to practice on your own. Not impossible, and potentially lots of fun, but definitely not the same.

She’d never forget the completely embarrassing conversation, during the sleepover at Buffy’s house last night. The gossip had turned to boys and then, step by inevitable step, to sex. Buffy might still be a virgin, but she’d obviously had lots of experience in the ‘playing solo’ department, if some of the things she’d said were true. And Willow had nodded and made noises in the right places and then stored it all away in her big brain ‘til she got home. Now she was spending some time putting theory into practice. And it was working – sort of.

She pictured Xander in her head – seeing his smile, pretending there was heat and lust and longing behind the friendship. She pulled up her skirt and then licked her fingers and slid them down between her thighs, pushing down the white silk and lace and then slowly in between her folds. She’d trimmed her bush, just a little, like Buffy had said, just so she could see what she was doing. And she watched, fascinated as first one, then two fingers slid inside. She closed her eyes and started to rock, slowly at first, and then more quickly as the sensations grew. As she moved her fingers up, her nail scraped across a small nub and she shivered. Oh my, she didn’t remember the gym teacher mentioning that. One scrape, then another, and her hips rocked again, and she went with the motion. Sensation built and she felt like she was running up an endless stair, but the more she rubbed and scraped and rocked, the more the feelings seemed to plateau – like there was one more flight of stairs left to climb and she couldn’t quite get to the top.

She stilled, and groaned, and glared at her wet fingers. That was definitely not the Rosenberg way – leaving a job half finished, and she worried that if she couldn’t satisfy herself, how on earth would she ever make a boyfriend happy. She knew Buffy had talked about other stuff you could do that would help. Toys to stimulate and insert and probe and she could feel herself getting flushed at the thought. Buffy actually had a vibrator hidden in the bottom of her underwear drawer, and Willow couldn’t imagine what Mrs Summers would say if she ever found it.

Like best friends should, Buffy had given her some advice. That getting a vibrator was one of the best investments a teenage girl could make, and oh my goodness, she was blushing again. But getting one would mean going to a sex shop and there was no way that was going to happen – not in Sunnydale where she knew everyone and everyone knew her. No way was Ira and Sheila Rosenberg’s daughter going to be seen anywhere near one of those places – they were for sluts and dirty old men. She knew Cordelia Chase had been spotted outside Sunnydale’s only sex shop. She’d been wearing shades and carrying a lingerie bag, but Willow knew she wasn’t buying underwear. Cordy told her acolytes, often enough, that the only place to buy decent lingerie was Bloomies, so there was only one other reason she could have been in that shop. She’d been buying sex stuff. Cordelia put on so many airs and graces and looked down on the rest of the girls at school, but Willow knew she was just a trollop – hopping from boy to boy like she was taking off last season’s shoes.

So a sex shop was definitely out, and there was no way she was going to order from one of those internet sites. She could just imagine a brown paper package arriving, and her mother meeting the mailman. She knew her mother wouldn’t be angry or upset. But she would want to talk about Willow’s emotional development and the psychological reasons why she felt she needed this artificial stimulation, and really Willow would rather get a D- than face that.

Willow sighed again and wished she was prettier and braver and could just go out and grab what she wanted and make it happen. But for that, she’d need to grab a piece of 2x4 and beat some sense into one big dorky brunette. 

She slid off the bed and started going through her night time routine - lay clothes out for the morning, check the right books are in her backpack and her homework was all there in its shiny plastic folders. Alarm clock set, she wandered into the bathroom with her PJ’s tucked under her arm. Cleanser, face wash, toner, and moisturiser – the ritual followed religiously every night, just like the magazines said and, more importantly, just like Buffy did. She pulled off her sweater and slid her skirt down her thighs until it pooled around her ankles. Her panties were lying in a scrunched up heap on the bed and she noted that she needed to put them in the hamper, before she went to sleep. She looked at herself critically in the mirror and wondered what she needed to change to make Xander see her. She wasn’t too fat, she wasn’t too thin. She had an okay face – not stunning, but certainly not ugly. Her breasts were small, but that was okay. She was in proportion. So what was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she get a boyfriend? Why couldn’t she orgasm? Why couldn’t it be like it said in the magazines?

She grabbed her toothbrush, intent on putting all these troubling thoughts and feelings behind her, and getting ready for bed. She flicked on the switch. She reached across to open a new tube of Tom’s of Maine toothpaste when she felt the toothbrush vibrating gently in her other hand. And she looked. And she stared. And bit her lip and wondered if she dared. She switched it off and regarded the little wand like it was going to bite her.

So innocuous. So small. So many possibilities.

She grabbed a towel and rushed back into the bedroom to make sure her door was locked, even though she knew she’d done it earlier. Then she made her way slowly back into the bathroom and it was still there - sitting, waiting, silent. She picked it up tentatively, and then closed her eyes like she couldn’t believe what she was thinking of doing. Just as well her parents were away at yet another lecture, because there was no way she’s contemplate doing this with them in the house – even with the lock on her bedroom door. One small push of a button and the device started to hum softly. She passed the head of the brush over the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist and it tickled for a moment, before it began to itch and scratch. She shivered at the thought of how it might feel down there. But she’d been a girl scout, she knew how to improvise and she switched off, carried the toothbrush back through to the bedroom, ripped a scrap of silk from her panties and wrapped the head of the brush. Satisfied with her work, she knelt on the soft woollen comforter and switched back on and watched the head rotate through the thin material. She stared for the longest time, before watching her hand move slowly down, like it had a life of its own. She could feel the vibrations pulse through her palm, as she pushed the wand between her legs and then pushed forward, so the small brushes slid under the soft material and glided across the edge of her clit.

Oh my...

She held her hand still, letting the bristles and the silk do all the work, and goodness they worked. She moved her other hand down and began the work her fingers deep inside. In and out, slip and slide. The small brushes teased and tormented and her hips took on a rhythm of their own. The sensations started to build again, her fingers did their work, the silk clad bristles did their magic and she was back on that staircase, climbing and climbing and climbing. It was like a rush of energy building inside her and just as she got to the final step, she threw the toothbrush across the room and stepped right out over the edge. And she shook and shuddered, and her hands gripped the sheets, and she caught her breath and slowly came back down to earth.

Willow stared at her shaking hands and relived the sensations in her head. Now she understood what the magazines meant. Now she knew the secret. All it took was practice, and that gold star was in the bag. She looked across the room at the abandoned toothbrush and wondered what a real vibrator would feel like. How multiplied could the feelings possibly get? She traced slowly back down her pubic bone and smiled as she remembered her parents were going on a working vacation for two weeks. There should be plenty of time to order a little something and not have to worry about the intercept.

Oh yes, there was a whole world of fun out there and, now Willow had tried a little DIY, she wanted the full professional package. She clambered off the bed and picked up the innocuous little brush and ran it under the bathroom tap, before putting it in the back of the vanity cabinet. She collected the toothpaste and then grinned to herself. Perhaps tonight, she’d better use the guest toothbrush. After all, dental hygiene was important for that killer smile. It must be true – Cosmo said so, and more important – she knew that Buffy carried a toothbrush in her bag wherever she went……

**Author's Note:**

> No domestic applicances were harmed during the writing of this fic...


End file.
